Of Dreams Forgotten And Fables Untold
by blackdragonsghost
Summary: Love is meant to be pure and strong and shining - or at least, that's what the fairytales say. However, love can also be dark and twisted and consuming. When war breaks out between Church and Prophet, Damien finds himself torn between two loyalties: his faith, and his heart. Slash, violence, very dark.
1. One Night Of Your Dreams

_**Author's Note: Herdcat, thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! In this rather suffocated fandom, getting even one review is a miracle, much less three! Of course, your wish is my command. Did someone request more enmity?**_

_**Warnings: Serious slash, bit of vampirism, blood and guts getting spattered around, Gerald being snarky - you know, the usual. When I say serious slash, I mean it - this is hard M, no kidding. **_

_**Further Warnings: This is dark. Really, really dark. No trace of fluff herein. When I write something for these two, either it's fluffy enough to choke on or it's really, really horrific. This definitely falls into the latter category. I suppose technically they're in love... but neither of them thinks so, at least at first. And believe me, if anything, Gerald's even crueler than in the books with how he's manipulating Damien's feelings. Because really, if those two fell in love, it wouldn't be what fanfiction writers like myself usually like to imagine. It would be a lot darker and a lot harsher... a lot more like this. **_

_**Disclaimer: If I was the creator of the Coldfire Trilogy I wouldn't be this overworked. Nor would I be writing slash fanfiction at 2 AM. Such is life. **_

_**A.N.2: Oh, in this version, Ciani hasn't broken up with Damien yet when he leaves for the Eastern Continent. Also, Hesseth survived the mess with the Immortal Prince, and Calesta is already dead, killed on the Eastern Continent. **_

_**A.N.3: Fic is titled after the song/album by The Moon And The Nightspirit. Chapter title is a line from Dragon's Mist by Manticora. Not one of my favorite bands, really, but there's something about the lyrics of that album - and this song in particular - that appeal to me. **_

_**A.N.4: Um, this wasn't originally meant to be multi-chapter... oh well. The more the merrier, isn't that the expression? (Never mind that there's absolutely nothing merry about this piece.) Incidentally, there's something weird going on here. For reasons I cannot possibly fathom, I can apparently only write good smut at, like, 2 or 3 in the morning. It's ridiculous. Most of this fic was written at said very very late (or very very early) hour, so please forgive any grammatical errors you might find. **_

_He was running. All around him, the Forest breathed, sharing in his eagerness as the Hunt played out. He moved through the night-darkened woodlands with the lightness of a wraith, flitting between the trees with unerring grace, never needing to glance down to avoid the tangled roots beneath his feet. The trees around him hummed with life: a dark and twisted life, undeniably, but life nonetheless. He could feel that life pumping through him, the haunting melodies of the dark fae singing in his blood as he Hunted, at one with the Forest that he had shaped. Molded by his hands, formed to his will, it was a part of him - and nothing could ever surpass the feeling of just being here, running free in the realm he had created._

_He could feel his prey close ahead. An unfamiliar kind, this time: this Hunt had been so different, unlike any he'd had before. No fragile flower, this one, no delicate maiden who fainted at the very sight of him. No, this one was special: a true adversary, an equal, never letting him win but making him work for each step closer to victory. It was thrilling, intoxicating, and he knew that he would never be able to give this up. Not now, not when he had finally tasted true ecstasy..._

_Moments later, it was over: he had trapped his prey, pouncing from the shadows like a hunting cat, sending them both down into the fallen leaves that carpeted the Forest's floor. He had stopped seeing the world through his human vision some time ago, but his other senses were in overdrive: the scent of rich earth, dead leaves, and the heady allure of his prey's fear-warmed blood. The icy bite of a northern wind and the deliciously human warmth of his prey. The swirling luminescence of the fae, beautiful and terrible... and the light in a pair of hazel eyes, warm enough to melt even the ice that shielded the Hunter's heart. _

Gerald dragged himself back into wakefulness with a start, eyes snapping open, his whole body stiffening. He lay perfectly still, absorbing his surroundings, letting the real world wash away his dream. The soft creaking of wood, the gentle roll and sway: he was in his cabin on the Golden Glory.

_Hellfire._ He let his head sink back into the pillows, struggling to suppress the wild emotions surging through him, to regain his customary composure. He rarely slept, and even more rarely did he dream, but apparently this was one of those rare occasions. The question that weighed most heavily was why in Heaven's name he had been dreaming of... _that._

With another vicious oath, Gerald sprang to his feet and stalked up the deck. It was the middle of the night, and the deck was all but deserted: the Hunter strode to the bow and braced himself against the rail, tilting his head back and drinking in the sight of the distant, icy stars.

_Who am I trying to fool, exactly?_ he asked himself bitterly, sighing quietly as the night wind ruffled gently through his hair. He closed his eyes, trying to relax some of the tension that made his body so rigid. _Karril's been taunting me for weeks, and he's probably not bluffing. Most likely, he really does know. I determined that I would __**not**__ attempt to deceive myself. I don't give a damn what the rakh thinks. That just leaves... him, as usual. Always the exception. _

He hissed in frustration and reached up, raking his hand absently through his hair. He had tried for centuries to repress the nervous habit, a leftover from his difficult youth, but sometimes it crept up on him when he was stressed. This definitely counted as one of those times.

Yes, he was bisexual. Yes, he had accepted that in his teens, and had been involved with both men and women during his lifetime as the Neocount of Merentha. Yes, he was deeply attracted to a certain Knight of the Flame. On their own, these things would not have been so bad. The trouble came when he considered the _other_ details.

Like the fact that Damien Vryce had a woman waiting for him back in Jaggonath. Like the fact that Damien Vryce was quite emphatically straight. Like the fact that he was a goddamned _Knight of the Flame,_ and thus totally out of Gerald's reach thanks to the Unnamed. Or the fact that Gerald himself was more or less the embodiment of everything Damien Vryce hated. Just thinking about it made Gerald feel sick. He didn't want this: he didn't want to suffer this kind of _complication_. He had severed all ties to his humanity when he made his sacrifice all those centuries ago, but somehow, Damien managed to make him _feel_ again. That was both frightening and angering - even more so because it made Gerald weak, and if Damien found out how the adept felt, the priest could easily use those feelings to strike at him.

Not that he would, more than likely. The priest was too damn noble to stoop to manipulating Gerald's feelings... hopefully.

A faint footstep sounded behind Gerald, and he tensed instantly: a tiny tendril of fae, though, was all that was needed to tell him the identity of the individual. It was Hesseth, which was in itself surprising: the rakh avoided him like the plague whenever possible. She moved purposefully across the deck until she was standing at the rail next to Gerald. Concealing his surprise, Gerald inclined his head slightly, keeping his voice cold but carefully level.

"Mes Rakh. What can I do for you?"

"I think we need to have a little talk about the Reverend Vryce." Hesseth said bluntly. Gerald stiffened instantly.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean just what exactly are you planning?" Hesseth asked him, golden eyes narrowed. "Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at him - like he's an unbonded female and it's almost mating season. I don't understand human tastes, but I'm not here to judge. However, I also would hate to see this mission fail because you two can't sort out your issues. Are you going to continue to pretend there is nothing happening, or do you intend to do something about this strange attraction between the two of you?"

Gerald glared at her and unconsciously ran his hand through his hair again. "It is no concern of yours. I assure you I am quite capable of managing my own actions."

Hesseth hissed faintly, but apparently recognized the dismissal. She started to turn away, frustration clear in her gleaming golden eyes, then paused. "He feels the same, you know."

Gerald froze: even his impeccably cultivated mask couldn't hide his shock. "_What?_"

Hesseth glanced back at him, a hint of amusement replacing frustration in her gaze. "You humans aren't all that observant, are you? He's attracted to you, too. I don't think he'll protest if you want to court him." With that, the rakh turned and vanished back into the belly of the ship.

Gerald just stood there for a long moment, wondering, turning over possibility after possibility in his mind. Was what she had said plausible? Why did he even care? He couldn't possibly take that risk, and he shouldn't want to anyway... but in a moment, a plan came to him - a way to ascertain once and for all if the priest had feelings for him. After all, if Damien could use those feelings as a weapon, Gerald could use them a hundred times more efficiently. He was, after all, at least a hundred times more ruthless than the Reverend Damien Kilcannon Vryce. Wearing a grin that would have terrified any sane man east of the Dividers, Gerald headed back to his cabin. Time for a little experiment.

~CF~CF~CF~CF~

_Damien was standing at the bow of the ship, staring out over the waves. After four months on this blasted boat, he was on the verge of going insane from forced inactivity. The steady lapping of the waves against the ship's hull did nothing to soothe him: since that damn tsunami in Ganji, he had hated anything and everything connected with the ocean. It was all too easy to remember the sound of wooden beams splintering like matchsticks, the terrified cries of men and women lost in the raging sea, the thunderous roar as the waters crashed over the cliffs..._

_Shuddering, Damien forced his thoughts away from that path. It was far in the past, no good could come of resurrecting those memories now. He sighed wearily. How much longer was he going to be trapped on this blasted ship?_

"_Seasick, Vryce?"_

_That cool, cultivated, arrogant voice could belong to only one person. Gritting his teeth Damien turned to face the Hunter, who had somehow come up next to him without the priest noticing. "I don't like the ocean much." he said flatly. "What do you want?"_

_The adept's silver eyes glittered in amusement. "Who says I want anything, Vryce? Perhaps I simply came out to look at the stars..."_

"_Yeah, right." Damien growled. "You're always after something. What is it this time? Or did you just come to poke fun at your least favorite priest?"_

"_Not least."_

_Damien, who had already turned back to look at the ocean, jerked his head back around to Gerald once more. "What?"_

_The adept's cool silver eyes were fixed on him, the look in them indecipherable as the Hunter said softly, "Really, Vryce, you're by far the most tolerable of any religious individuals I've met. Although, considering the type I had to deal with during my time as Neocount, that's not saying all that much. Shortsighted fools..."_

_Damien's mouth was hanging open, but with an effort he shut it. Had Gerald actually just complimented him? "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, Gerald, but... are you feeling okay?"_

_The Hunter smiled at him. A strange, dark, chilling smile. The atmosphere around them changed: the temperature dropped, the wind died, it felt as though the air itself were holding its breath. Gerald moved closer to Damien, slowly, like a cat stalking its prey as he said softly, "Yes, actually, remarkably well."_

_Damien's mouth went dry and he edged backward, cautiously. "Gerald, you can stop now, you've successfully unnerved me... okay really, back off. I don't know what you think you're playing at, but stop it."_

_Gerald was still quite clearly stalking him, that unsettling smile never wavering. "You were the one who was so adamant that I was after something, Vryce. And as you are no doubt well aware, I always get what I want."_

_Damien could feel a cold trickle of fear sliding down his spine - and he knew the Hunter would be able to feel it too, damn him. The priest swallowed hard. "Gerald, really, what the hell do you want from-"_

_His words cut off suddenly, though, when he felt his back hit wood and realized that Gerald had somehow backed him around in a circle and pinned him against the mast. _

_The deck was completely deserted, not even a man in the wheelhouse. Damien knew there was something wrong with that, but he couldn't think: Gerald was too close to him now, those brilliant silver eyes boring into him, stealing his breath and thoughts away..._

"_Just this." Gerald whispered, then his lips were pressed against Damien's in a fierce, ice-cold kiss. _

Damien bolted into a sitting position, waking with a scream on his lips. He choked it back - although barely - and looked around. Dark wooden paneling, a bare trickle of moonlight sneaking in through the porthole - he was in his cabin. The Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

_A dream. A vulking dream._

Slowly, Damien forced himself to relax, slumping back against his pillows in exhaustion. His muscles throbbed softly, sore from tensing in fear. As he remembered exactly what had woken him, a wave of varying emotions washed through him: anger and disgust in no small measure, a fair dose of fear... and a single thin thread of excitement.

Damien grabbed that thought by its metaphorical throat and choked the life out of it. _No. Not that. Never that. _

Damien forced himself to lie down again, settle in as though nothing was wrong - but he was taught as a violin string, every muscle straining, as though expecting Gerald to melt out of the shadows at any moment.

It was going to be a long, long night.


	2. Cold Blows The Wind

_**Author's Note: This chapter was already written anyway, so I might as well post it now. No sense leaving things dangling, after all. And it might be a while before the next chapter is finished, since I've got my HP fic to work on, so better safe than sorry. **_

_**A.N.2: Chapter title is from an old English folk song, my favorite version is the one recorded by Bellowhead on their album Hedonism. Although this version was recorded as Cold Blows The Wind the song is sometimes known by the name How Cold The Wind Doth Blow, but the most common title is The Unquiet Grave. Faith and the Muse did a nice version, too, by the title The Unquiet Grave. **_

Damien had every intention of calling the Hunter on that strange dream, but in the light of day it seemed foolish. After all, with the way his thoughts had been twisting themselves lately, who was to say that it was even Gerald who had created that dream? It could just as easily have been the product of Damien's own overwrought imagination, in which case he would be admitting to Gerald that he was dreaming of the adept. Damien would cut out his own tongue before he would willingly admit that, so for the time being at least, talking to Gerald was out of the question. Not entirely trusting his own ability to hold his tongue, he simply stayed in his cabin almost the entire day, and took care to stay in sunlit portions of the ship when he ventured out. Gerald was unavoidably confined to his cabin during daylight hours, so for now, Damien was safe. For now, he could relax.

His confidence was shaken slightly, though, when he went up on deck in the late afternoon and ran into Hesseth. The rakh was standing at the bow, staring out over the waves and frowning. Damien came up to her cautiously, and stopped a couple feet away: he still wasn't sure exactly what the rakh thought of him.

"Hesseth?" he said, warily. "Something wrong?"

The rakh sighed. "Perhaps the tedium is simply beginning to take its toll." she murmured, her claws drawing distracted patterns on the wood of the railing. "I thought... but I must have been mistaken." She glanced at Damien, her golden eyes appraising as she added, "Or perhaps I am not as proof against the Hunter's mindgames as I once believed."

Damien's throat clenched in dread but he forced a grin. "Yeah, he has a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he? Half the time I don't know if he's doing it to be malicious, or if he's genuinely unaware of his effect on people, or if he just thinks it's funny."

"Indeed." Hesseth murmured. There was something disquieting in the way she looked at him, though, so Damien stayed only a few minutes longer before retreating back to his cabin. He sat on his bunk and tried to quell the confusing emotions tearing through him. _It was just a stupid dream._ he told himself firmly. Unfortunately, even he didn't believe that.

That night, he dreamed again.

_The forest around him was shadowed and still. Under different circumstance it might have seemed peaceful, but in the fading moonlight and rising fae-glow it seemed dark and threatening. Every shadow seemed filled with demons, waiting for him to turn his back: he could hear soft sounds drifting from the depths of the nightbound woodland, faint but unmistakably hungry. _

_He did the only thing his fear-clouded mind could think of. He ran._

_Branches slapped against his clothing, tugging at the cloth like clutching fingers, trying to drag him down. He fought free and ran on, but the night seemed determined to sap his strength: the darkness congealed around him, slowing him down, draining his energy and leaving him weak and shaking with fear. He kept running, though, too afraid to stop - he could feel something behind him, something chasing him. Hunting him, though the dark and haunted woodlands. _

_Damien staggered to a halt in the next clearing and collapsed against a tree, panting for breath. His heart was drumming in his chest, a tattoo of fear that he'd never felt before. He glanced around wildly, searching the shadows between the trees for any sign of movement. The same thoughts pounded in his head, over and over again. There was terrible something hunting him, something that sought to devour him whole: he had to keep running, get away..._

"_Reverend."_

_Damien spun around, his muscles clenching in dread. Gerald was standing before him, motionless and perfect as a marble statue... and every bit as cold. Damien backed away unconsciously, chills prickling along his spine. "Gerald, what... what do you want..."_

_His voice died in his throat as the Hunter stepped closer, silver eyes burning through him, pupils swollen and dark with hunger. "Don't you remember, Reverend?"_

_Damien had a feeling there was something he should definitely be remembering, but he couldn't quite grasp it. It slid through his fingers like water... or silk. Shivering, he took another step back - and felt his back hit the tree he'd been leaning against. _

"_Gerald-"_

_The Hunter's eyes darkened almost to black as he drew closer. The chill of his body flared out, enveloping Damien in an aura of bone-chilling cold. A strange sensation stirred in Damien's core, a mixture of fear and something else - something dark and twisted, something suspiciously like longing. _

"_Perhaps I should remind you." the Hunter murmured, then his lips were on Damien's and the world vanished in a blaze of coldfire. _

_Damien lost the battle against the dark emotions that had been plagueing him for the last few hours, catching hold of the adept at his slender waist and pulling him close. _

Damien bolted awake, a scream once again catching in his throat as desire turned to terror. He lay still for a moment, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, staring upward until the dark shapes resolved themselves into more familiar outlines. The top of his bunk. He was still on the ship.

_That sick bastard!_

Something close to panic made his blood run cold and Damien threw back his tangled sheets, scrambling into the rest of his clothes and bolting out of the cabin. He needed fresh air, and he needed it _now._

He staggered up on deck and lurched across to the railing, clinging to the dampened wood in a desperate attempt to stay upright. His stomach was heaving, roiling with a sickening mixture of revulsion and some strange, dark, unholy desire. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as hard as he could, gulping down lungfulls of the cold night air, fighting to suppress the nausea. What the Hell had that been about?

Finally the sickness subsided, leaving Damien cold and shaking. He opened his eyes and stared blankly out across the obsidian waves, flecked with gold and silver from the distant moons. In the wake of his revulsion, anger began to dawn. What exactly did the Hunter think he playing at? The first time, Damien would have written it off as a fluke, or the Hunter being bored and toying with him. Twice, though... that was a bit much. There was something going on, and Damien was not going to let it go without finding out just what Gerald was trying to do.

Damien really, really hoped that the Hunter didn't suspect the secret feelings that had been developing for some time now. Damien had been fighting the attraction for almost two months, trying every trick he knew to shake all such thoughts from his mind. He should be thinking up ways to kill the Hunter, goddammit, not trying to bed him. He couldn't help it, though: Gerald was too beautiful, perfection made flesh, there was no way Damien could _not_ want him. As long as Gerald didn't know, though, Damien had at least some measure of safety.

Perhaps Gerald was trying to see how far he could push Damien before the priest finally snapped? Damien wouldn't have put it past him: the adept could be a sadistic bastard sometimes. If that was the case, he must have gotten one hell of a shock this time. Before Damien could really think that through, though, he heard a soft footstep behind him and his heart leaped into his throat.

A voice, hardly louder than the rippling waves, came from behind him. "I warned you about keeping things from me, Reverend. It seems you've overplayed your hand."

Damien felt a flicker of nausea roil up inside him again. Swallowing hard, he turned: Gerald was standing barely a foot away, still as a statue in the moonlight, silver eyes indecipherable. Damien forced down his fear and unease, struggling not to think about the resemblance of this scene to the first dream, and said bluntly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Gerald said softly, arching one impeccably shaped eyebrow. "On the contrary, Reverend, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about." He shifted forward a little without even seeming to move, and Damien instinctively edged backward, trying to keep the distance between them steady. "You're a better liar than I would have guessed, but your thoughts give you away... or should I say your dreams?"

Damien scrambled for his anger and drew it around himself like a shield. "Go to Hell, Hunter. This is all your fault anyway. If you weren't messing around in my head every night-"

"Ah, but that's just the point." Gerald murmured, silver eyes gleaming as he moved still closer, until they were almost touching. Damien's heart started pounding at their proximity, despite his anger and fear. "You're actually enjoying it, aren't you, Reverend? You like the thought that I'm dependent on you, that I _need you_..."

"You're insane." Damien's voice was shaking now, and he backed up another step - only to feel the cold wood of the railing behind him. Gerald smirked.

"Am I?" he breathed, lifting one slender hand and laying it lightly on Damien's chest, over his heart. Damien flinched involuntarily at the contact: the Hunter's skin was cold as ice, a searing chill that struck through Damien's clothing and deep into his flesh. "You try so hard to focus on your hatred for me, Reverend... yet your heart betrays you at every turn."

Gerald leaned forward until his lips hovered inches from Damien's. The priest was frozen, spellbound by those cold silver eyes as the adept whispered, "You can't deny the truth forever. Sooner or later you'll fall, Reverend - and when you do, I'll be waiting."

The Hunter closed the distance between them and pressed his lips lightly against Damien's, just for a heartbeat, the contact almost chaste. The chill went through Damien like an electrical shock, the icy sweetness of Gerald's lips sending thrills through his body. As swiftly as he had initiated the contact Gerald pulled away, gave Damien a last, searching look, then turned and was gone in a swirl of dark silk.

Damien stood frozen, paralyzed by shock and his own warring emotions. Then, with a curse, he more or less fled back to his cabin. Slamming the door and locking it he sank down onto his bed, clenching his hands into fists in a futile effort to stop them from shaking. Swallowing hard, he slowly lifted his head and stared blankly at the door.

What the hell was he going to do?


	3. Hoist The Colours

_**Author's Note: Glad you're enjoying it so far, Herdcat! I figured it was about time I updated this again: after my car accident my Gerald-muse was kind of hiding from me for a while, but he's back now, and I can write once more! YAY! **_

_**A.N.2: Chapter title is from the Pirates of the Caribbean song. I know, there is nothing in this fic that is remotely related to any pirates, never mind POTC. I don't really care. The feel of the music simply called to me, it felt right for this chapter, and I was listening to that song to set the mood while I wrote. That's just how I roll. **_

_**A.N.3: You know, I only just realized, but this is the thirteenth fic I've posted on here. Thirteen. Heh heh. Oh, poor Damien. **_

For days, Damien tried to pin down the Hunter, to talk to him. He couldn't simply let this go: he needed to know what Gerald was up to, and he needed to know _now_. Try as he might, however, he couldn't seem to catch the adept alone. During the daylight hours he was holed up in his cabin, warded so securely that not even an Iezu could have gotten in: at night he was either prowling on deck and scaring the crew, or lurking in the shadows somewhere, just out of sight. It was extremely frustrating - especially when, once or twice, Damien caught flashes of the Hunter's amusement through the bond. The sensation was enough to make him grind his teeth in frustration.

There was a definite sense of urgency to Damien's efforts now: he was running out of time. They had already sighed a few trading ships in the distance. The ship would dock at Faraday sometime in the next few days, and then... Calesta was destroyed, as was the Immortal Prince. The quest was over. Gerald had already announced his intentions to return to the Forest with all haste, and Damien himself needed to return to Jaggonath. He had an angry Patriarch to placate.

Once they docked, they would go their separate ways, and it was anyone's guess if they would ever see each other again. Damien had worked long and hard to convince himself that was exactly what he wanted, and he had very nearly succeeded - but now a tiny thread of doubt was worming through him, and he needed to speak with Gerald to lay it to rest.

It was only once he'd all but given up that Gerald approached him. He had gone up on deck again, feeling as thought the ship's hull was shrinking around him. The faint, unformed hope in his chest was vindicated when Gerald slipped out of the darkness to stand next to him, silver eyes dancing with amusement, and something else far more subtle. Damien glowered at him.

"Sure, now you show up. What do you want?"

Gerald chuckled softly. "Always so blunt, Vryce. I would have thought they provided Knights with better training in diplomacy."

Damien snarled unintelligibly under his breath. He was fast forgetting exactly _why_ he had actively wanted to talk to the insufferable adept. "I'll ask this one more time. What the hell do you want?"

Gerald smiled at him, a strange, secretive smile. "This is not about what I want, Reverend. This time it's about what _you_ want."

"Well it doesn't matter that vulking much what I want, because it's been avoiding me for the last three days!" Damien snapped - then froze. Damn it all to hell. Had he really just said that out loud? Oh shit, he had. He could tell by the look in Gerald's silver eyes - and he could also tell the Hunter wasn't about to let that go.

Gerald moved closer, his silver eyes gleaming as he murmured, "Until today? So... whatever it is that you want... is within your reach now?"

_Oh, shit._ Damien swallowed hard, but the word slipped out before he could restrain himself - or perhaps it was forced out, by an invisible tendril of fae winding about his throat. "Yes."

The cold northern wind curled around them, drawing them closer together, mocking Damien's attempts to withdraw. He saw the flash of triumph in Gerald's pale eyes, then the adept moved forward until they were all but pressed together, his breath cool on Damien's skin as he murmured, "Then what are you waiting for?"

Damien's control shattered like chilled glass at the tone of carefully veiled seduction in Gerald's voice. He reached out and caught hold of the lean adept, drawing him into his arms and pulling him into a desperate kiss. This time, it was anything but chaste: Gerald's pale lips parted easily under the priest's own, his ice-cold tongue lapping lightly at Damien's mouth, daring him to respond. Though he knew it was tantamount to suicide, Damien did so: the Hunter's mouth was too sweet and tempting to resist. He threw himself into the kiss, taking the adept's mouth almost angrily, trying to prove that he was the one in control but only managing the opposite. The inhuman chill of Gerald's body burned through him like fire, and he was powerless before it. He let himself sink into the kiss, feeling everything else wash away.

The sweet taste of Gerald's kiss seemed to change: the veil fell away, and Damien's stomach lurched as he realized what it was. Not the clean sweetness of a normal kiss: that heady, overpowering flavor was the sweetness of decay, the taste of flowers left to rot in the shadows, far too sweet and tinged with death yet somehow subtly intoxicating. It was undercut with a metallic sharpness that made Damien's soul recoil in horror: the distinctive tang of blood.

Damien wrenched himself away from the poison kiss, stomach churning. Gerald wouldn't let him go, though: the adept clung to him with ease, wrapped around him like a serpent, silver eyes luminous as he breathed, "Why so startled, Reverend? That's what you wanted, isn't it? To know what corruption truly tastes like..."

"Let me go." Damien choked, feeling dizzy from the mixture of horror, disgust, and desire raging through his veins. He couldn't understand how he could still want Gerald, after that - yet something in him already longed to taste the Hunter's mouth again, lose himself in that cloying darkness and just forget the world.

Gerald's lips twisted into that familiar dark smirk, and he released Damien, withdrawing smoothly from his embrace. "As you wish." Damien felt a bolt of conflicting emotions shoot through him, relief and regret mingling and clashing, and Gerald's smirk widened as though he knew exactly what the priest was thinking. His pale eyes glittered. "If you change your mind, Vryce... you know where to find me."

He vanished back down the stairwell, leaving Damien to stare after him, dazed and sickened by the strength of his own emotions.

~CF~CF~CF~CF~CF~

The next day, they docked in Faraday. Damien was struck with a mixture of overwhelming relief and chilling disappointment when he saw the port come into view: this was where he and Gerald would finally part ways. The Hunter would return to the Forest of Jahanna, and Damien... he had a Patriarch to report to.

Shortly after dusk fell, as Damien was standing on the dock watching the men unload the traveler's possessions, he heard Gerald's soft voice. "I would say goodbye, but... I doubt this is the last we'll see of each other."

Damien turned, frowning slightly as he stared at the adept. "What do you mean?"

Gerald smiled that strange, twisted smile he so often directed at Damien these days and shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough, Vryce." He studied Damien a moment, then bowed gracefully - a gesture that, oddly enough, sent a shard of wistful pain through Damien's heart. "Until we meet again, Reverend. It's been an honor."

Not wanting to look too closely at his own tangled emotions, Damien nodded in return. "Same to you." he said, his voice ever so slightly unsteady. Then, against his better judgement, he added, "Stay safe, alright?"

Gerald's silver eyes gleamed, and Damien suspected he'd just lost another point in this strange, nameless game they seemed to be playing. The Hunter only smiled, though. "You as well, Reverend." Then, just like that, he was gone - vanished back into the shadows from whence he had come.

Damien stared at the place where the adept had stood for a long time, trying to reconcile his nightmarishly complicated emotions. Finally, deciding that he didn't want to know anyway, he wrapped it all up in a ball and shoved it into a metaphorical drawer in the back of his mind, locked the drawer, and threw away the key. Feeling slightly better, he went to help with the unloading of the ship.

His strategy of simply not thinking about anything too painful worked for the next hour or so, until Hesseth tapped him on the arm. "We've got company, Reverend."

Startled, Damien looked up - and felt his heart leap into his throat. Ciani was making her way down the dock toward their ship, grinning from ear to ear.

"Damien!" she called, waving happily. Swallowing down his sudden uncertainty, Damien grinned back and hurried down the gangplank, enfolding the overjoyed loremaster in a warm hug.

"Cee! What are you doing here?"

She laughed and just about hugged the breath out of him. "Karril told me when your ship would be arriving. He wouldn't give me any more details, though: how was your journey? Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

The loremaster rambled on, but Damien was only half listening: it felt surreal, being suddenly back in the presence of her ebullient energy. He smiled, nodded, and agreed in all the right places, but he was hardly listening to her enthusiastic account of the rakhlands. Finally he forced his mind back into gear, just as Ciani finished her speech.

"-So I'll be traveling back to Jaggonath with you! When are you planning on leaving?"

"In... in the morning, I suppose." Damien said, feeling something deep in his chest twist oddly at the words. "No reason to travel at night, now..."

Ciani blinked, and her smile faded. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. Karril said you hadn't killed Gerald yet - does that mean you're not going to at all?"

Damien sighed and rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "I really don't know, Cee. For now, we've called a sort of truce. He's going back to the Forest, and I have to report to the Patriarch. What happens after that... well, we'll worry about that when the time comes."

Ciani nodded in understanding, and the subject of the undead adept was not mentioned again - until the second night of their journey back to Jaggonath.

"_Welcome back, Vryce."_

_Damien's eyes snapped open. He was standing in a lush garden, faintly illuminated by moonlight, the vibrant flowers nodding gently in a cool breeze. The plants were strange ones, warped and thorny stems sporting luxurious, intoxicatingly perfumed blossoms. The garden of the Hunter's Keep, Damien realized with a chill. _

_He turned. Gerald was standing there, a few feet away, grey eyes gleaming with triumph. What was strange, though, was that this time the customary distortion of the dreams was absent. Damien frowned, confused. _

"_What the hell is going on here, Gerald?"_

_The Hunter smirked. "How should I know? It's your dream, Vryce, not mine."_

_Damien groaned. "How is it that even when I'm asleep, you still give me a headache?"_

_Gerald smiled darkly, moving closer now, sinuous as a serpent. "Perhaps you missed me, Reverend?" he purred, eyes glittering as he drew closer. "Or perhaps you simply missed this..."_

_With barely a moment's warning he moved, swift as a striking snake, fastening his mouth onto Damien's. This time, Damien was free to fight back: he tried, he truly tried to push the adept off of him, but it was too difficult. Gerald was wrapped around him like some kind of deadly python, devouring his mouth, and Damien couldn't get enough leverage to pry the slimmer man off. In addition, there was a strange sensation flowing through his veins, gradually stealing his strength. It felt as though Gerald was somehow leeching his energy, sucking his very soul out. Against every fibre of his will Damien went limp, and felt Gerald sigh in satisfaction, his cold tongue tracing over Damien's no-longer-protesting lips..._

"Damien!"

The priest snapped awake, panting and flushed, his heart drumming frantically against his ribs. Ciani was sitting on the edge of his bed and staring down at him, her eyes wide with a mix of concern and fear. She bit her lip, gazing into his eyes.

"Are you alright? You were thrashing around something terrible. Was it a nightmare?"

_A cold embrace, colder eyes, a biting, ravenous kiss..._ "Yeah." Damien forced a wry grin. Ciani smiled sympathetically.

"I suppose traveling with the Hunter for so long could give anyone nightmares." She gave Damien a coy smile. "I could try to... _distract_ you, if you want..."

Damien winced inwardly, but raised an eyebrow, his face neutral. "What happened to 'too different to make it work'?"

Ciani blushed. "Sorry. I know, and I meant what I said, I just... I don't know. I've been rethinking some things lately." She smiled at him, more gently this time. "We'll talk tomorrow, alright? You should go back to sleep now."

Damien nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Still smiling, Ciani returned to her own bed. Staring up at the dull ceiling of their grimy room at the inn, Damien tried futilely to relax. When he finally did fall asleep, nearly an hour later, he was still wondering why the thought of sleeping with Ciani again had suddenly turned his stomach inside out.

All he knew was that something was very, very wrong, and Gerald was the cause.


	4. His Heart Was Drowned So Deep

_Author's Note: Okay, we're getting to the good part now! The Patriarch isn't going to be happy... in the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, 'of course you know, this means war!' Chapter title is from the song Widow's Curse by Bellowhead. The association makes more sense if you know the song, trust me. _

_Werebunny87: Oh, you think I've made Damien's life difficult NOW? You ain't seen nothing yet. Seriously, Gerald makes Tom Riddle look like a Hufflepuff._

_Herdcat: Heh, so I guess I actually can write in-character Ciani when I try. Good to know. Let me know how I did on the Patriarch! _

Damien stood his ground, refusing to show that he had broken out in a cold sweat, or that he was gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt. He would not give this infuriating man the satisfaction of knowing how much he had upset Damien, nor would he admit to anything that would back up this man's accusations.

"With all do respect, your Holiness, I did my best."

The Patriarch's face was white with barely-restrained fury as he glared at Damien, his blue eyes like ice. "_You did your best_? Then, Reverend, I fear your best is not good enough. I commend you for your work on the Eastern Continent, there is no doubt that your travels there have been of immense benefit to all of civilized Erna. However, the fact remains that you had the Hunter within your grasp, and yet _he still lives!_"

Damien winced inwardly as the waves of anger-tinged fae beat against him, stirred by the Patriarch's wrath. How very ironic, that the very man who railed against 'heathen sorcerers' like Gerald, was himself a natural Worker. The Hunter would no doubt have appreciated the irony. Forcing his thoughts away from the seductive adept who had made his life so complicated, Damien inclined his head respectfully to the Patriarch. "I understand your displeasure, your Holiness, and I am more than willing to do whatever necessary to atone."

Abruptly, the Patriarch's rage died, and he turned a suddenly calm gaze on Damien. That startling transition from fiery rage to glacial collectedness was far more frightening than his former anger to Damien. A slow, cold smile worked its way across the older man's face.

"Excellent. In that case, Reverend, I think we may have a solution. Should you succeed in this mission, your fame and accord shall be trebled."

A chill worked its way up Damien's spine. Perhaps he should not have been so quick to accede. "What is this mission, your Holiness?"

The Patriarch's smile was as chill as Gerald's had been. "As we speak, Reverend, the forces of the Church are being marshaled in preparation for a great crusade. For the first time in six hundred years, the Church of Human Unification shall go to war."

Damien's breath caught, and he gulped. "Against what force, your Holiness?"

"Why, against the Forest, of course." the Patriarch said simply, his cold blue eyes glittering. "It is high time for another Crusade, Reverend - and I think you are the perfect man to lead them."

Damien's legs gave way and he fell more than sat in the chair before the Patriarch's desk. "Your Holiness, you cannot be serious! The Church has not gone to war in centuries, the Knights are not prepared - and God forbid we should be forced to call upon the militia reserves. None of them are fit to fight. I've _seen_ the Forest, your Holiness: if the Hunter sent even a fraction of those creatures against us, we would be torn apart! This would not be a war, it would be suicide!"

"Then you had best prepare to be a martyr to the cause, Reverend Vryce." the Patriarch said softly, his tone deadly. "The old laws of sedition and corruption are still on the books, you know. Based on these, I don't think it would be hard to have the judge convict you of Consorting with Powers of Darkness."

He held up a sheaf of papers. Damien's heart plummeted right into the ground as he recognized his own handwriting: they were his reports from his voyage to the Eastern Continent. A few phrases seemed to jump from the paper, burning into his eyes.

_...know everything's he's done, all the evils he has committed. And yet, I can still see the shadow of the man who was once the Prophet in him..._

_...risking even more than the rest of us, really. Between the Forest and his immortality, he has the most to lose, and he still refuses to back away from any challenge, no matter what the danger..._

_...nearly died, saving us from the Immortal Prince. It seems impossible to reconcile the sacrifices he's made and the risks he's taken with the monster that rules the Forest..._

_...seems my view of him is constantly changing, with every day that passes..._

"That's not how I meant it," Damien began desperately, but the Patriarch just raised one eyebrow.

"Really? Personally, I found these reports to be extremely enlightening." He flipped through and selected one page with a flourish, reading part aloud. "'After Gerald's actions in the Black Lands, I cannot help but wonder if the Church's views on his actions were not based as much on their own political interests as on the facts.' I would say those words speak for themselves, Reverend. You question the teachings of this church. You take the word of the Hunter over the word of your superiors. _You speak of this devil by his given name._ You have been compromised, Reverend, and if you will not act to exorcise this darkness from your soul I shall be forced to cleanse you by any means necessary."

Damien's world reeled. What the hell had he been thinking, writing so frankly? Actually, he knew what he had been thinking - he had still hoped to somehow redeem Gerald at that point, and he had thought to soften the Church's hatred of him at the same time. So much for that plan.

Now, it seemed that all he had managed to do was tie his own noose to hang by. The penalty for corruption on this magnitude was death: the Patriarch had him utterly trapped. Death in a futile war, or death at the hands of a Church tribunal - which path to take, to his own destruction?

The Patriarch's cold smile had not wavered. "Of course, should you manage to destroy the Hunter, you would clearly prove your purity. Such minor waverings in your faith would be easily absolved by such tremendous service. So, what shall it be, Reverend Vryce?"

An icy weight settled into Damien's chest. The Patriarch was prepared to convict him simply on the grounds of those reports: what would the elderly Churchman think of what else had passed between Damien and the Hunter? What would he think, if he learned of the stolen kisses on the deck of the Golden Glory, or - God forbid - the dreams?

Oh merciful Lord, the dreams...

They hadn't stopped that night when Ciani shook him awake, and they had returned each night thereafter. Gerald was no longer binding Damien's will, but he might as well have been: the Knight couldn't keep fighting, night after night. Eventually, he had stopped putting up more than a token resistance, letting the adept have his way.

It had gone long past the odd brief kiss, by this point. They hadn't actually had sex - Damien wasn't that far gone - but anyone witnessing the dreams would have been firmly convinced they were seeing the beginnings of a passionate lover's reunion. Gerald would twine himself vine-like around the knight, kissing him until he stopped resisting and returned the adept's movements. They would stay that way for what seemed like an eternity, slowly devouring each other, locked together in some sick parody of a lovers' embrace. Gerald's cold, bittersweet kisses seemed to send some strange creeping sickness into Damien, polluting his veins like a serpent's poison. Now, even during his waking moments, Damien was hard-pressed to put the adept out of his mind.

If the Church's Inquisitors got their hands on him... Damien didn't even want to think of what the Patriarch would make of those memories. He'd probably wind up burned at the stake. The only way he had a chance of surviving was if he led the campaign against the Forest.

Damien drew a steadying breath and rose, forcing himself to meet the Patriarch's gaze. He felt sick inside, knowing he was taking the coward's way out, yet unable to find a viable alternative. "Very well, your Holiness. I will lead the Crusade."

The Patriarch's smile transformed into a look of intense, cold triumph. "Excellent."

~CF~CF~CF~CF~CF~

Outside the Cathedral, Damien barely made it half a block before he staggered and fell against a nearby brick wall, his head spinning. Bile rose in his throat, and it was only through a tremendous effort that he kept from vomiting.

Around him, the people of Jaggonath went about their business in blissful unconcern, oblivious to the doom that was drawing nigh. Damien marveled for a moment at the scene: the sun still beamed down brightly, people still chatted and laughed as they went to and fro down the broad avenue. Life went on, unmarred by the shadows that enveloped Damien.

"Damien!"

He choked back a groan as he turned. Ciani was making her way toward him, smiling warmly as she emerged from the crowd.

"How did your meeting with the Patriarch go?" she asked breathlessly, her green eyes bright with curiosity and warmth. Damien plastered a strained smile across his face.

"Not bad." he said, hating that he was lying through his teeth but unable to stop himself. The loremaster frowned slightly, her smile vanishing. Damien cursed inwardly: of course, she was an adept. She would see through that blatant lie.

"Are you sure?"

Damien sighed and dropped the pretense. "No. Actually, it all went to Hell. I can't very well talk about it here, though, it's pretty much top-secret."

Ciani's eyes darkened, and she nodded. "Alright. Why don't you come to my place, and you can tell me all about it?"

That was how, half an hour later, Damien was finishing his tale of woe in Ciani's apartment. "...and I don't know what else to do. I feel like I'm taking the coward's path by just giving in to his demands, but he's got me over a barrel. I'd say my odds of surviving are better with the choice I made, but you know what Gerald's like - whatever small truce we might have worked out is probably going to be instantaneously null and void when he finds out I'm leading the crusade."

This last was perhaps not strictly true: Damien had told her of his conversation with the Patriarch, but given that she apparently still had feelings for him, he couldn't bear to tell her of the strange seductive element that had crept into his relationship with Gerald. The loremaster looked upset enough already.

"Oh, Damien, that's terrible! I can hardly believe that the Patriarch would be so horribly cruel - I thought your Church preached mercy and forgiveness?"

Damien shrugged helplessly. "It all depends on circumstance, Cee. Most of these laws that the Patriarch is falling back on have been around since the days of the First Crusade, when the world was still reeling from the Wars of Unification. When Gerald founded the Church, he tried to rework the old writings to suppress the base religion's more violent tendencies, the same as he tried to strike out the concept of Hell. It didn't work, though - and after the Prophet's Fall, the Church hierarchy overreacted by writing it all back in, tenfold. They wanted to hold enough power that, if they saw one of their own straying down the same path Gerald took, they could kill them outright - under the guise of saving their soul, of course. I can just imagine what Gerald must have thought of that when he heard: he fought so hard against that kind of law during his time as Neocount."

Ciani nodded sadly. "I can't blame him. So many of our kind were slaughtered during the witch trials in the Dark Ages, it's a sore point for all adepts. Gerald was one of the first adepts to survive to adulthood, it would have been even more important to him. Surely there's some rule that they have to prove that you've been corrupted, though?"

Damien shook his head bitterly. "I already handed them ample proof, Cee. I was a fool to be so open in those reports, but the damage is done: I'm well and truly compromised, from their point of view. Worse, it's not widely known, but the Church still retains a small force of Inquisitors to question those suspected of corruption or possession, and they're quite skilled at pulling out memories and such to serve as 'evidence'. I shudder to think what they would make of some of my interactions with Gerald."

Ciani sighed, her green eyes despondent. "I suppose there's really nothing for it, Damien - I wish there was something I could do, though. If you think of anything, anything at all that I could do to help, you'll tell me, won't you?"

Damien smiled sadly. "Yeah, I'll let you know. Thanks for listening, Cee."

She smiled at him, her face wan. "Anytime, Damien."

As Damien made his way back to his own apartment, he wondered uneasily why the affection shining in her viridian eyes had made his skin crawl.

~CF~CF~CF~CF~CF~

"_You're in over your head, Vryce."_

_Damien opened his eyes to find himself once more in the Hunter's garden. Sighing, he turned to face the adept, who was standing nearby with his silver eyes intent on Damien's face. Shrugging, Damien met his gaze steadily. _

"_Probably. A little late to be worrying about that, though, don't you think?"_

_A sardonic smile twisted Gerald's lips. "You have the worst luck of anyone I've ever met, Reverend. It's been centuries since a Patriarch openly threatened a member of the Church. You realize I can see everything in your heart, don't you? I can read every emotion, every longing, every wish that you keep locked away in there. This isn't what you pictured when you imagined coming home."_

_Damien felt the words pierce his heart like a knife, and he sighed heavily, the weight on his heart growing colder still. "No, but I don't have much of a choice."_

_Gerald moved forward until he was standing just in front of Damien. Lifting one hand, he rested his cool fingers against Damien's cheek, his silver eyes glowing. "There are always choices, Vryce."_

_Damien stared at him warily. "What do you suggest?"_

"_Join me." Gerald breathed, a sudden fire kindling in his shining eyes. "You don't have to let them trap you like this, Damien, God knows I never did."_

_Damien's heart twisted painfully, and he met Gerald's gaze with an effort. "And how do I know you wouldn't just trap me too, if in a different way? I can't, Gerald. I can't betray everything I've ever believed in like that. I don't know what the hell this is between us, and I don't know if I want it to end... but I won't let the world burn for you."_

_To his surprise, there was no anger in the adept's eyes as he pressed closer, his breath cool on the knight's flushed skin. "I understand. You're not ready, yet: someday you'll see the truth. I won't turn away, Damien, remember that." The sound of his given name on the Hunter's lips sent tremors through the frozen priest. "Someday, you'll lose that ironclad perception of light and dark... and when you fall, I'll be waiting."_

_Then his lips touched Damien's, the kiss shockingly chaste and heartbreakingly tender. That brief instant of gentleness and emotion did what all the passion in the world could not: Damien's defensive armor shattered, and a sob tore at his throat as he wrapped his arms around the undead adept, drawing him closer. _

_Gerald broke the kiss with the same uncharacteristic tenderness, his silver eyes dimmed and gentled to a soft pearl grey as he murmured, "No matter what it feels like, this isn't the end, Damien. This is only the beginning."_

Damien awoke from the fading dream with his heart racing in his chest, and his pillow wet with tears.


End file.
